


Flamingos

by kristsune



Series: Flowers and Tattoos [11]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, but they fit together perfectly, flashback handwaves, i love this song so much, poke is a soft punk, punks who love a wide variety of music clap your hands, stick is a bit more hard around the edges, teen punks, they are seriously the most adorable, this is all because the song came on my mp3player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:01:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/pseuds/kristsune
Summary: Stick makes a confession, that turns out to not be much of a surprise.





	Flamingos

**Author's Note:**

> This 100% happened because [The Flamingos - I only have eyes for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvzNeh4Mq1o) came up on my mp3 player. Honestly one of my fave songs ever. This just kind of happened. I love these two just so much.
> 
> They are probably around 16 or 17 at this point.

Stick was pacing in his room. Again. He kept starting then stopping, and then starting again. Poke was coming over soon, and he was so nervous. Which was _ridiculous_. They had literally known each other since they were toddlers. They slept in the same bed as often as they didn’t.

Poke had been there for him more than his dad had in the years since his mom’s death. Not that he blamed his dad. He had lost his wife, the love of his life, and was forced to work twice as hard to make sure Stick had everything he needed. Unfortunately, that did not make up for his absence.

Poke, and his moms, had _always_ been there for him. Helping both Stick _and_ his dad when they needed them.

Him and Poke had been best friends as long as Stick could remember, but here he was pacing, _again,_ like an idiot, waiting for Poke to come over.

What made today so different than any other day, was that Stick was planning on telling Poke that he loved him. Again, they had been saying that to each other for _years_ , but today was _different_ . Stick _loved_ Poke. Poke was his everything. But he wanted more, he wanted them to be together romantically. He wanted to kiss Poke, in more than a family-like goodbye or goodnight kiss. He wanted to hold him close, without anything in between them. He wanted to not just be Stick anymore he wanted to be _Stick and Poke_.

But first, he had to tell Poke.

When Stick heard Poke’s steps coming up the stairs, he ran, slid on the wood floor, almost fell, managed to catch himself on his desk, before hitting play on his cd player. The gentle, tentative guitar chords of “I only have eyes for you” by the Flamingos - one of Poke’s favorites - started playing just as Poke opened the door.

A small smile crossed Poke’s face as he dropped his bag at the door. Poke had never been very expressive, so to see that much of a smile, meant he was at least off to a good start.

“Hey, Bev’ika. What’s the occasion?”

Stick took a deep breath, and let it out. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. You know that.” Poke replied immediately.

Stick took a step closer, “No. _I love you_. As in I want to date you, actually be your boyfriend. I want to kiss you and you know” Stick waved his hand, blush creeping up his neck, “and do other things with you.”

Poke’s smile went sly, which meant Stick was in for a revelation, “I thought we already were dating, and you just wanted to take things slow.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Poke shrugged, still smiling, “Yeah, not quite sure when it happened, but I definitely thought we were already boyfriends.”

Stick pouted, dropping his shoulders, “No one ever tells me _anything_.”

Poke took Stick’s arms and wrapped them around his waist, then put his arms over Stick’s shoulders, and started to sway them back and forth to the music.

“Well, now that you know.” Poke paused, “Do you want to do anything about it?”

Stick finally smiled back, placing his hands more firmly around Poke’s waist.  “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

“Do any of them include putting this song on repeat?” Poke asked, hopeful.

Stick leaned back to hit the repeat button before leaning in close, foreheads touching, ”Yeah, they certainly can.”

If anyone thought two mohawked punks, with matching Bad Religion shirts, dancing to an old doo-wop song was weird, well, it was a good thing they liked being weird.


End file.
